Read Online A Market for Murder by Rebecca Tope - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rebecca Tope
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partly true, he also knew that people adapted with astonishing speed to a new and unexpected situation. Even being told that your perfectly fit young husband had been murdered in a small country town was a piece of information the average woman could get to grips with within twenty-four hours or so.
‘I was in Yorkshire, you know – when it happened,’ she went on. ‘I had to be with myfather. He’s very ill, you see. My mother’s at her wits’ end with it all.’
‘That must have made things difficult.’
‘I feel as if I have to be in two places at once. And we daren’t tell Dad what’s happened to Peter. It would probably be the final straw.’
Drew suppressed the urge to tell her otherwise; to force his own view upon her: that it was always better to tell the whole truth. It wasn’t his place to tell people how to manage their own families. Poor woman, he thought. Sounds as if she’ll have another funeral to go to before long.
‘So, we have to be patient, until the Coroner’s Officer lets us know when the inquest is opened and then adjourned,’ Drew said. ‘It probably won’t be too long. When it’s to be a burial, rather than a cremation, the rules are more relaxed. They’ll very likely release the body to us within a few days, and we can have the funeral whenever we like after that. I just need you to understand that we can’t fix a date yet.’
‘No, I didn’t expect to.’ Her voice was softly musical, a slight Devon accent giving it a friendly, almost intimate, resonance. But Drew was never again going to be seduced into getting too emotionally close to a client. That had happened once, and once was more than enough.
Having noted some necessary details – fullname, address, age – he left it that Julie Grafton would come and see him when notification came through that the body was being released. ‘Phone me any time if there’s anything you’d like to know,’ he offered.
His sympathy for her was genuine as he put the phone down. Not only had her husband just been killed, but the gossip about his relationship with Sally Dabb was sure to be flying around the neighbourhood at that very moment. When a person died, their secrets instantly became common currency, despite injunctions about not speaking ill of the dead. It seemed to be a simple matter of the person no longer being there to keep the lid tightly closed on facts that were generally private. And in the case of a sudden death, this was even more true. Emails went undeleted, diaries undestroyed. Letters, jottings, even observed behaviour, all acquired greater significance when their author or object was no longer present.
Unless, Drew supposed, there was a wholesale and determined conspiracy to maintain the silence. If Sally Dabb behaved herself, and if there were no letters or emails or recorded phone messages, then perhaps the secret was safe. He found himself hoping this was the case.
CHAPTER FIVE
Karen’s heart spasmed uncomfortably at the sight of the same two police officers on the doorstep again, that evening. She let them in unwillingly, then kept them standing in the hall, with the excuse that her husband and daughter were engaged finishing a jigsaw in the final few minutes before Stephanie went to bed. ‘I don’t want my daughter disturbed by your visit,’ she said firmly.
‘Mrs Slocombe, I expect you know why we’re here,’ said the heavier of the two. A man with very little neck and the largest ears Karen had ever seen. His colleague was hardly slim, either, but seemed rather more in proportion.
‘I assume it’s about Peter Grafton,’ she said.
‘That’s right. We’d just like to run throughthe sequence of events with you again. And perhaps go back a bit further in time than in your statement yesterday.’ He produced a sheet of paper and consulted it. ‘That is, before you went for coffee with Mrs Beech. How was Mr Grafton behaving at that time?’
‘He was … he seemed quite relaxed. Happy,
‘I was in Yorkshire, you know – when it happened,’ she went on. ‘I had to be with myfather. He’s very ill, you see. My mother’s at her wits’ end with it all.’
‘That must have made things difficult.’
‘I feel as if I have to be in two places at once. And we daren’t tell Dad what’s happened to Peter. It would probably be the final straw.’
Drew suppressed the urge to tell her otherwise; to force his own view upon her: that it was always better to tell the whole truth. It wasn’t his place to tell people how to manage their own families. Poor woman, he thought. Sounds as if she’ll have another funeral to go to before long.
‘So, we have to be patient, until the Coroner’s Officer lets us know when the inquest is opened and then adjourned,’ Drew said. ‘It probably won’t be too long. When it’s to be a burial, rather than a cremation, the rules are more relaxed. They’ll very likely release the body to us within a few days, and we can have the funeral whenever we like after that. I just need you to understand that we can’t fix a date yet.’
‘No, I didn’t expect to.’ Her voice was softly musical, a slight Devon accent giving it a friendly, almost intimate, resonance. But Drew was never again going to be seduced into getting too emotionally close to a client. That had happened once, and once was more than enough.
Having noted some necessary details – fullname, address, age – he left it that Julie Grafton would come and see him when notification came through that the body was being released. ‘Phone me any time if there’s anything you’d like to know,’ he offered.
His sympathy for her was genuine as he put the phone down. Not only had her husband just been killed, but the gossip about his relationship with Sally Dabb was sure to be flying around the neighbourhood at that very moment. When a person died, their secrets instantly became common currency, despite injunctions about not speaking ill of the dead. It seemed to be a simple matter of the person no longer being there to keep the lid tightly closed on facts that were generally private. And in the case of a sudden death, this was even more true. Emails went undeleted, diaries undestroyed. Letters, jottings, even observed behaviour, all acquired greater significance when their author or object was no longer present.
Unless, Drew supposed, there was a wholesale and determined conspiracy to maintain the silence. If Sally Dabb behaved herself, and if there were no letters or emails or recorded phone messages, then perhaps the secret was safe. He found himself hoping this was the case.
CHAPTER FIVE
Karen’s heart spasmed uncomfortably at the sight of the same two police officers on the doorstep again, that evening. She let them in unwillingly, then kept them standing in the hall, with the excuse that her husband and daughter were engaged finishing a jigsaw in the final few minutes before Stephanie went to bed. ‘I don’t want my daughter disturbed by your visit,’ she said firmly.
‘Mrs Slocombe, I expect you know why we’re here,’ said the heavier of the two. A man with very little neck and the largest ears Karen had ever seen. His colleague was hardly slim, either, but seemed rather more in proportion.
‘I assume it’s about Peter Grafton,’ she said.
‘That’s right. We’d just like to run throughthe sequence of events with you again. And perhaps go back a bit further in time than in your statement yesterday.’ He produced a sheet of paper and consulted it. ‘That is, before you went for coffee with Mrs Beech. How was Mr Grafton behaving at that time?’
‘He was … he seemed quite relaxed. Happy,
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